Rescued
by Boann
Summary: 1st in the Rescue Trilogy. Alan discovers what happens when the rescuer becomes the rescued.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all!**

**Once again I am examining a little too intently the minds of the Tracy's and, as a result, have produced three stories. These three stories, each posted separately, will try to see through different perspectives of the same people (if that makes sense). **

**What goes through the minds of the rescuers, the rescued and those who must save themselves without the help of genius technology?**

**I hope you enjoy!**

**Any comments and constructive criticism is welcome!**

**Boann**

**Disclaimer:**** I inherit** **no profit for this work of fiction and I own no characters, names or places over which prior copyright has been claimed.**

"All right!" Alan exclaimed, kissing the piece of paper he held in his hands.

"Good news?" queried Fermat, catching up with Alan's long stride as they moved through the halls of Wharton Academy.

"You bet! All that practise with John paid off! Mrs Hamilton gave me an 89 on the geography test!" Alan said jovially.

"That's g...g...amazing!" said Fermat. "John will be p...p...he'll wanna hear about this. You should call him from the dorm."

"Where do you think I'm going, Ferm?" Alan said, speeding up even more so that Fermat was forced to jog.

"Alan! Wait up!" called the boy genius.

But Alan paid no attention. Fermat didn't mind though. An achievement like that was something Alan deserved to be excited about. After a long stretch of miserable scores and disappointments, Alan had worked harder than ever. Swallowing his pride and asking John for help with study had been a big step for the youngest Tracy, and finally his work had paid off. What better way to end the term before the Christmas break?

Slowing to a halt, Fermat could only smile as his best friend continued his rush to their room.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Hey Alan, good to hear from you!" smiled John from the other end of the vidscreen. "I assume the test results have come back."

Alan couldn't hide the goofy grin plastered across his face. "They certainly have!" he beamed.

From the smile on John's face, his brother was obviously pre-empting good news. "And? Don't keep me in suspense, kiddo!"

"I got an 89!" exclaimed Alan.

John's mouth formed an 'O' before finally stretching into a smile bigger than Alan's. "Oh my God, Alan! That's great! Well done, sprout!"

"Thanks for all of your help, John," Alan said, sincerely. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Rubbish, Alan!" John waved a hand to emphasise the point. "I just read over your notes and gave you a few pointers on how to structure the essay. You put all that work in and it has certainly paid off. Dad and the boys will be so proud of you."

Alan lowered his head to hide his blush. "Thanks," he smiled. "I really feel great, John. You know, I really think that after everything that's happened, things are really starting to look better."

"What did I tell you? Who's a genius?" said John.

After the Hood's invasion of their home earlier that year, it looked uncertain as to whether things would return to normal, especially for Alan. The nightmares, the bruises and the constant fear of their nemesis' return had proved to be difficult to remove from their lives.

"Yeah," murmured Alan.

"So, what's new down there? Have they finished those extensions yet?" asked John.

Wharton Academy had been extending many of their buildings, including the gym and sports grounds. Being heavily involved in the athletics team (which had been encouraged by his father to help relieve any remaining stress), Alan was extremely anxious for the renovations to be finished.

The young boy shook his head at his brother's question. "Nope, not yet. Hopefully they'll be done soon though. At the moment we can only use the fields and I kind of miss the workouts we used to get in the gym."

John 'hmm'd' his response.

"By the way, are you all packed and ready? Transfer is only a few minutes away," Alan reminded him.

John laughed. "You bet, sprout! You called just in time. Gordon's due to arrive for duty in less than ten minutes. It'll be great to jump into that pool."

"Better at home than here," mused Alan. "It's still snowing and it doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon."

"I know," smiled John, peering off-screen. "The way the charts are looking, it doesn't look likely to clear over the next twenty-four hours."

Alan rolled his eyes and sighed. "It's so not fair that you can see everything from up there," he groaned.

"Hey, I see you when you're sleeping. I know when you're awake..." John hummed the carol with a laugh.

"That's a comforting thought," Alan grumbled.

"I know if you've been bad or good, so be good..."

Alan let out a chuckle. "Gordon's right! All that time up there has definitely left a few screws loose."

"Hey!" John retorted.

"Hey John, I'd better go. It's nearly time for lunch."

"Okay sprout. I'll give you a call tomorrow when I'm on solid ground."

"Great. Can I send you a draft for my Physics essay?" Alan asked.

John nodded. "Sure. Talk to you later."

"Safe journey," Alan smiled, ending the transmission.

Ten minutes later, Alan was inside the dining hall with his tray of food, peering over the rows of tables until he found a familiar face.

"Hey Fermat!"

Fermat looked up. "Hey Alan, take a s...s...sit down!" smiled his friend, shuffling over to make room.

"Hey Tracy!" welcomed a boy sitting opposite Fermat. It was Joshua Riley, son of a multi-millionaire engineer famous for his ingenious developments at NASA and Alan's companion in athletics. "Heard you did well in geography today. Well done. Hamilton's pretty hard to impress," congratulated the dark haired boy.

"Thanks, Josh," smiled Alan, digging into his food.

"So have y...y...did you hear about the latest news about the r...r...Tell him Josh," Fermat stuttered.

Alan raised his eyebrows, for once not even being able to guess what Fermat was trying to say.

Josh flashed a smile that won him plenty of female admirers, according to hearsay. "I think what The Brain is trying to say is that people are talking about new developments in the work they're doing up in the gym."

"Don't tell me it's being postponed again," groaned Alan with a mouthful of stroganoff.

Josh nodded glumly. "They've found some of the supports in the original building won't accommodate the new structure."

"So? Why can't they just add a few more supports?" asked Alan.

"Apparently the architecture between the original and new structures is that different they have to rethink the whole extension," grumbled Josh. "Stupid idiots up in admin thought more about making the building look nice than they did about structural design. So the construction will be on hold until they fix up the mess they've made."

Alan threw down his fork in dismay. "Idiots," he griped. "I reckon half the students could do a better job than the staff at running this place sometimes."

"Nah, we're just spoiled, rich boys who conjure foolish ideas from delusions of grandeur, ever present with our juvenile arrogance," Josh said in a near-perfect impression of the Headmaster.

Alan and Fermat laughed and the three boys resumed eating. When the lunch hour had finished, Fermat excused himself before hurrying off to their dorm, muttering something about a forgotten textbook. Alan and Josh walked to the frosted fields for their tuition on the sports oval. They passed the gym on their way. Nothing much had changed. The old gym, a three-story building approximately the size of the athletics oval stood amidst rubbish and debris as it had for the past few weeks. The orange plastic fencing still surrounded the area. A bulldozer was parked not far from the building, disregarded after being used to clear more ground and excess rubble. New walls that had been slotted in an 'L' shape stretching out for another ninety feet were crudely fixed to the old building. A small crane still hung on to a new wall propped up by steel supports. More steel beams were scattered around the gym, some of the serving little, if any, purpose at all.

"What a mess," mused Alan.

"Great idiots, the lot of them," agreed Josh.

"I don't know what the big deal is? Why did they have to make it bigger in the first place, t's already enough," Alan thought aloud.

Josh nodded in agreement. He touched Alan's arm, pulling him closer to the fence. "Come on, we've got a few minutes until class. Let's see what's going on in there."

It took a few seconds for Alan to comprehend. "Josh, no! We're not going in there," he replied.

"Come on, Tracy. I want my father to know exactly what kind of buffoons are running this place. I'll take a few pictures on my phone to send him and then we can have the pleasure of seeing the admin scramble around in a mad flurry at the fury of a few millionaires," Josh suggested.

Alan shook his head. "It's too dangerous. There's a reason no workers are in there. It's obviously unstable until they fix the supports."

"Come on, Alan, don't tell me you're scared of going over a plastic fence," joked Josh, heading towards the site and vaulting the barriers.

"Josh!" Alan hissed, running after his friend and following him over. "Josh, don't be an idiot!"

Josh paid no heed to Alan's calls. He dashed inside the building with no caution. "Come on Alan, we should be able to get a good look from the top floor."

"Josh!" Alan called, his eyes wondering to the barrels of fuel set aside for the machinery standing against the gym walls. Loyalty left him no choice but to follow his friend up the stairs. The gym was hardly lit, probably running off a generator to conserve energy, but a majority of the sports equipment remained in its designated position. The exercise bikes still stood along the first floor's south wall, the weights were still stacked against the west wall, and even the treadmills and stack machines still stood in a neat row on the second floor. _To say they were confident that the construction was going to go without a hitch is an understatement_, Alan thought.

"Josh?" he called as the stairs creaked under him.

"Up here!" his friend replied further in front.

"Whoa," Alan murmured as he reached where Josh stood.

The entire east wall of the second floor was missing, providing a perfect view of the construction below. He'd expected the inside of the extensions to be a mess, but this was just ridiculous. The roof of the ground floor had been erected and looked solid enough, but it appeared the workers had hastily abandoned everything else. There were ladders, coils of rope, stained sheets protecting the new flooring, wiring hung out of the walls and disappeared through the new floor and a snakelike length of air conditioning pipe lay forgotten. Alan was growing increasingly uneasy with each observation. Even toolboxes and coffee mugs had been left behind. Something had to have been wrong for the men to leave such simple items.

"Josh," he murmured to his friend, who was standing on the edge of their level, taking pictures with his phone. "I'm serious, man, we gotta go."

"Just a few more," insisted Josh. "I'm going down there to get some better shots."

Alan cursed and turned away, catching his eye on something as he did. A crude table was propped by the wall that was lined with treadmills. On it lay a sheet of paper. Spreading it out over the table, Alan saw it was an architectural design of the building. As he examined it more closely, his eyes widened in horror.

"Josh!" he yelled. "We have to go! Get out, quick!"

But his friend was gone.

_Crap__!_ Alan cursed, bolting back downstairs. Sure enough he found Josh, standing at the edge of the first floor of the original building, about to make his way across to the floor extension.

"Josh, stop!" called Alan.

But it was too late, Josh walked out into the extension. The floor creaked, but his friend was oblivious to it. Alan skidded to a halt between the original floor and the new one. "Josh, come back! It's not safe!"

"Chill out, Alan. They wouldn't have let workers in here if it was gonna collapse," said Josh.

"So where are the workers now, Josh? They've evacuated this building for a good reason! They really screwed up, man!" Alan shouted.

Josh frowned, pausing his photographing. "What do you mean?"

"Just come back," Alan told him, holding out a hand in encouragement.

"Ok. I think I've got enough anyway," Josh finally agreed, snapping his phone shut and walking casually back to where Alan stood.

Suddenly the building let out a horrible moan and Josh froze. Alan's head snapped up, as if expecting to see where the moan was coming from, but he saw nothing. Then the lights began to flicker.

"Josh!" Alan hissed, encouraging him to continue.

Josh walked as if he was stepping on ice. Every step he took elicited another squeak or moan from the floor. As he crept forward, so did the noises, which were now coming from the floor where Alan stood. There was a dull thud and a crash from below; something had definitely come loose. Josh began to quicken his pace. Suddenly a sharp crackle made the two boys stop. The loose wiring coming out of the unfinished wall began throwing sparks across the floor, dangerously close to where a crate of polyester adhesive stood amongst the abandoned tools. In slow motion, one of the sparks hit the barrel. There was a pause, before it blew apart with a loud bang, shooting sizzling globs of its contents up the walls. Both Alan and Josh jumped and Josh began running. The groaning became louder as the barrel was consumed by red flames; a fireball burning in the middle of the room.

"Come on!" Alan yelled.

There was a loud crack as a piece of the floor gave way and Josh's foot fell through, knocking away a steel support underneath the floor as he slipped. Alan grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him up just as they heard a 'dong' from below. Then another and another. The crudely temporary steel support below had obviously hit another and now they were falling like dominoes down there. Adding that fact to the information from the design sheet, it was officially a disaster.

"Run!" Alan yelled, pulling Josh along by the arm.

The two boys ran back through the gym, heading for the stairs. Behind them, the floor of the extension began to tilt dangerously and burning adhesive attacked the walls.

The groaning followed at Alan's heels, making him run faster. _Those idiots!_ He silently screamed. _Those stupid, useless..._

Suddenly the floor underneath him began to falter and he and Josh were thrown to their feet.

"What the hell is going on?" screamed Josh. "The old gym is as solid as a rock!"

"Not anymore!" Alan shouted back.

It felt like a miniature earthquake as the building shuddered. The weights stacked on shelves tumbled off and began rolling across the floor. The bikes were wobbling precariously.

"Come on we have to get out of here!" Alan called, picking himself up again. He could feel the heat of the flames behind him now, and the creaking was growing unbearable. A falling chunk of the floor above stopped them in their tracks and Alan pushed Josh out of the way just as a stack machine crashed through down from the floor above, landing with an immense bang. The floor buckled underneath it and it fell through. Unfortunately, Alan hadn't thrown himself far enough to avoid the hole and was sucked down with the machine. He managed to grab the ragged edge of the gap and was left hanging over the lip.

"Alan!" he heard Josh call and he lost grip and fell. Below him the stack machine, loaded with spare weights, fell through the ground floor and landed with a thump like thunder in the basement. Alan reached out to grab the edge of the hole in the ground floor, which managed to break his fall, but the blow to his ribs was so harsh it knocked the wind out of him. He saw stars for a moment before realising that he was falling again. Amazingly he did not land on the stack machine, but rather rolled under it, landing on his right knee. Turning onto his back, he tried to breathe through the pain and shock. He didn't move. He couldn't. He lay there panting before adrenaline returned, bellowing at him to move. He was lucky he did. No sooner had he rolled over than two dumbbells landed exactly where his head had been. A couple more followed as Alan crawled out of range.

The basement was primarily a storage space for sports equipment not regularly used due to the updating of various models. Cages filled with balls stood against the walls and racks of dusty bats filled the odd empty space. Although Alan could feel tremors through the ground, the basement appeared to be stable. The solid brickwork wasn't about to move. Alan's concern was the floor above. Weakened by the hole, it wouldn't stay up for long, especially with the weight of all the gym equipment up there. A particularly large dumbbell was tossed through the hole, striking the stack machine as it fell. Alan could only watch as the unsteadily balanced machine tilted towards him.

_Move Alan!_ A voice inside his head screamed and he lurched away. But he wasn't fast enough. The machine toppled sideways, landing on top of him. Alan was lucky though. The stack of weights missed him, but he was pinned across the midriff and left arm by the 'L' shaped top frame and his thigh was trapped by bench support. Alan let out a growl of pain as it the pressure on each point grew. Pinned directly near the gaping hole above, he was at the mercy of anything that fell through. His knee was burning, but he couldn't see what was wrong with it.

Bitter defeat washed over him. "Josh!" he tried to call, but above the noise from the next level, he couldn't hear his friend's response. There was no way for him to escape. The concrete floor beneath him meant that squeezing himself out from under the machine was impossible. He half expected something to fall through the hole and seal his fate.

_Dad! Please__ help me! _He wanted to cry.

But he didn't have the strength. It hurt to breathe. The basement wasn't heated and it was freezing, so what breath escaped him came out in clouds.

_Someone, please help!_


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for all of your reviews! Please continue with your feedback. This chapter was a little hard to write, but I hope my explianations are easy to understand. I am no architect, so my descriptions of the rescue site are based on basic research.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

**Boann**

"It was great to see Alan so excited, Dad. I haven't seen him that happy in a long time," mused John. The second eldest Tracy sat on a couch in his father's study, his arms stretched out over the back support. He'd touched down on Tracy Island less than ten minutes ago and was welcoming luxury back into his life. The quick flight from Thunderbird 5 had been a blessing.

From his desk, Jeff smiled. "That's excellent, John. Thanks for all of your help."

John flicked a hand in dismissal. "Like I said Dad, I did hardly anything."

Without warning, the klaxon began to sound, pulling John out of his chair.

"Looks like you'll have to wait a while for that swim, John," Jeff said, activating Command and Control as Scott and Virgil ran in. "Tracy Island to Thunderbird 5, are you awake Gordon?"

"You bet, Dad. What a warm welcome to duty up in the land of the dead!" Gordon joked, before turning serious. "A call has come in about a small construction site. Apparently they were making serious extensions to a state-of-the-art gymnasium when things went pear-shaped. They halted construction and closed off the area, but some kids managed to get in and now the building is collapsing. A fire has started on one side of the building; they suspect an electrical shortage caused by the instability. The building is so unsteady the fire crews won't go near it, and the rough weather will make an air rescue cause more harm than good. By the time the air-crew get there, a snow storm will hit the area, making any rescue attempts futile."

As the boys took off in their respective pods, Jeff nodded sternly. "Understood Gordon. The boys are on their way. They'll need details from you on the way. What's the location?"

Gordon replied, "Dad, you'll never believe this. The call is from Wharton Academy."

TBTBTBTBTB

"Gordon, this is no time for jokes," said John harshly from his seat in Thunderbird 2.

"This is no joke. Trust me," said Gordon over the communication line.

Virgil frowned from the pilot's seat. "Alan complained about the construction taking so long, but it never appeared this serious," he commented.

"Speaking of Alan, have you contacted him yet?" asked John.

"Negative," Gordon responded. "I've been busy passing information back and forth. Not all of us can work that kind of magic up here, Johnny-boy."

"Do it now, would you? I'd feel a whole lot better knowing he's okay," John murmured.

"You and me both," agreed Virgil.

"FAB" was Gordon's reply.

John exhaled harshly, leaning his head back. It was always interesting getting back on the field on the ground, but this was making him lose his edge. _Calm down_, he told himself. _Stay focused._

Virgil the Psychic Wonder looked over to him. "He'll be okay, John. He's not stupid enough to go wondering around an unstable construction site."

John breathed out again. "Yeah, I know."

"Thunderbird 2 this is Thunderbird 1, I am approaching the danger zone. Will land in three minutes," said Scott over the line.

Virgil responded accordingly. "FAB Thunderbird 1. We're fifteen minutes behind you."

"FAB Virg. I'll contact you when I've landed and give you instructions then on where you can set her down."

"FAB."

"Thunderbird 2 this is Thunderbird 5, come in."

"Thunderbird 2 receiving. What news, Gordo?"

"Guys, I've tried Alan's mobile and he's not responding. Apparently they've cleared the kids away from the area and are taking a register, so it's possible he can't answer," Gordon reported.

"If that's the case, we can't call his watch either. We'll just have to wait it out," Virgil said.

"FAB. Don't worry, I'm sure he's okay," Gordon assured. "I'd better relay this information to Scott."

"What do you mean?" asked John.

Gordon replied. "Surely you guys don't think you're the only mother hens in this family. I'm burning up airwaves here!"

TBTBTBTBTBTB

It was getting colder. Alan could barely feel anything anymore, which in some ways was a blessing. The throb in his knee had dulled to an ache and his ribs were no longer burning. _Definitely broken a few though_, he surmised.

At some point, the roof must have weakened, because snow had begun to filter into the basement; not good.

Then his phone had rung. He'd wanted so desperately to answer it, but with his arm pinned he couldn't reach the pocket of his jeans and could only let it chime away. He'd lost track of the time. Had it been an hour? Two? Surely the building couldn't last that long. He'd heard some crashes coming from far away; the extensions must have already collapsed. At least the fire couldn't reach him down here, for the moment. He tried not to think about it.

_What would Dad do? _

One thing he focused on was staying awake. _When you know you're hurt and you can't help yourself, focus on staying awake,_ his father had told him.

"No offense, Dad. But focusing on staying awake isn't enough for me," Alan growled to himself.

If nobody knew he was here, then staying awake wasn't going to help him when the fire reached him or the building finally gave way. Yelling for help was a waste of time. Nobody would hear him. And if he couldn't reach his phone, he had only one more option. Alan twisted his head around to his left arm, where his watch was strapped around his wrist. Raising his right arm at an awkward angle, he tried to activate the comm. But pulling his arm over pulled his torso left, which increased the pressure on his ribs. The bar would simply not let him move.

"Come on!" Alan panted, trying to twist himself over. Something in his chest cracked with the strain, causing Alan to cry out in pain. _There goes another one_, he guessed. But he didn't stop until he'd pressed the switch on his watch. With a growl he lowered his right arm back down, his broken ribs popping.

"Thunderbird 5..." he panted. "Can you hear...John!"

"Alan?" a voice replied. "Alan, is that you?"

Sheer relief distracted Alan from answering for a few seconds. But he was pulled back by the voice calling his name.

"Alan, answer me! It's Gordon in Thunderbird 5. Alan, are you all right?"

Alan's usual response of 'Yeah' was replaced with a groan of frustration. It hurt to breathe, and so yelling to reach the receiver was a mighty task.

"Gordon I...the building it...fell and...Gordon, I'm trapped!" Alan cried.

"Alan, raise your arm and look at me!" called Gordon.

"I can't!" Alan called back, unable to keep the panic at bay. "I'm stuck! Help me!"

"Alan, listen to me! The boys are on their way. Rescue teams can't get to you. Don't worry Al, we'll get you out!" Gordon relayed. "Is there anyone with you, Alan?"

Alan gasped. "Yeah...Josh. Don't know where..."

"Ok Alan, tell me what happened. Just hang in there okay?"

Right now hanging on was all Alan could do.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Thunderbirds 1 and 2 from Thunderbird 5, come in!"

"Thunderbird 1 receiving from mobile control."

"Thunderbird 2 receiving. We've touched down, over."

"We have a situation," Gordon reported. "There are two boys trapped in the building. I repeat: two known casualties."

Scott frowned from his position on mobile control. Situated not far from the building, he was busy gathering information, but Gordon's statement had unnerved him. "Gordon, how do you know that? The register of students hasn't arrived yet."

"Scott, get on the mobile comm," Gordon instructed.

Obviously Gordon had something to say that he didn't want heard by passing ears. Scott switched from control desk to his head piece, adjusting the microphone. "Copy that, Thunderbird 5. I'm on mobile comm."

"Gordon, what is going on?" asked John across the line.

"Alan just contacted me."

Three exclamations resulted from the statement.

"Alan is trapped in the basement of the building. Apparently he tried to stop another student from entering the gym and the whole thing came down on top of them. Alan fell from the first floor to the basement. Apparently, his friend is still on the first floor." Gordon reported.

"Can either of them get to a door or window?" asked Scott, his heart pounding.

"Negative," replied Gordon. "By the sound of it, Alan is trapped in the basement. He keeps saying something about being stuck, but he won't specify. He sounds like he's in a bad way. He can't raise his left arm so a clear transmission is a problem. No contact has been made with the other student since the collapse."

"Understood," said Scott. "I've received an analysis of the condition of the gym from admin, albeit a crude one. Apparently construction was halted due to an unrecorded structural impurity with the original building. Usually when an extension is made to a building, a cavity wall will support the inner and outer walls and supports can be placed accordingly. However, in the old building there are traces of incomplete construction of the supporting structure. By removing the east wall, they found no additional support for that side of the building. Although they believed a cavity wall would provide support, they discovered it could not provide support for lateral loads through the foundations. Without these, the whole building could fall under wind pressure and be unstable under loads.

"The building was immediately abandoned as soon as this was confirmed. They didn't even dare allow removalists to take away the sporting equipment, which they originally thought could be left inside without impeding construction. The whole thing was scheduled to be strategically torn down and started from scratch at the end of the week."

"So all this time that gym was not only unstable, it was holding tonnes of gym equipment that could have initiated the building's collapse?" Virgil confirmed.

"Exactly," said Scott. "They were unwilling to allow anybody to attempt to remove the equipment, even though the building was scheduled to be destroyed, risking thousands of dollars to ensure safety. In the end, it only aided the disaster. With the weaknesses in the building only being discovered this morning, they had yet to install extra security. The whole school was going to be addressed this afternoon regarding the danger of the site, but they were too late."

"Why the hell would they wait that long? That building was a time bomb!" John exclaimed.

"With the experience we've had with this administration, it doesn't really surprise me. You know how backward their priorities can be. I'm guessing the first task on their list was insurance," Scott growled. "But right now we have to focus. The basement does not appear to be compromised; however, if there is a hole in the floor above, it's likely what is left of the building will soon end up down there. Virgil, John, I want you in The Mole. Get the boys out. I'll assist up here. The fire in the north-east corner has consumed the extensions and so far is being controlled, but if those flames reach the vehicles parked on the west side, the explosion will bring the whole building down. I'm taking the Firefly up there to ensure that doesn't happen."

"FAB, Scott."

"Keep your heads, boys. I know this is personal, but we have to remember that Alan isn't the only life in danger," Scott reminded his brothers.

After a pause, his instructions were replied to with "FAB".

"Gordon, are you there? Relay this information to base, then keep Alan on the line. We have to keep him awake and talking," Scott instructed.

"FAB," Gordon replied, signing off.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Come on Alan, keep talking. Virgil and John will be there any minute."

By now Alan had had enough of Gordon telling him what to do. He was cold, trapped and scared, and he wanted out. _So this is how the victims feel_, he realised. _When you're the rescuer, you don't think about these things. It's a bit different down here._

"Alan?"

Alan swallowed. "Y...y...yeah, I'm h...here," he stuttered, shivering.

"How are you feeling? Do you know if you're hurt?"

_Duh_, Alan bit back. He didn't want to answer such a stupid question. "Where are th...they?" he asked instead.

"Virgil and John are in The Mole. They're on their way Alan. Now, can you tell me where you are?"

"I'm in the b...b...basement," Alan replied.

"Now's not the time to be cheeky Alan," Gordon sounded like he was smiling. "Where are you in the basement? We don't want Virgil poking his nose out of the ground too close to you, do we?"

_Oh_, Alan realised. He'd been serious. "Umm..." He looked around. About ten feet from that wall...about five from that one...Alan gave Gordon the closest estimation he could.

"Okay kiddo, hang tight."

"Mmhmm," mumbled Alan, feeling exhausted. _If I just shut my eyes..._

"Alan, I can't hear you talking," Gordon's voice invaded his stupor. "Usually that's a good thing, but you know how boring it gets up here. Talk to me, bro."

Alan tried, but to be honest he couldn't think of what to say. Sleeping seemed easier than thinking. _God, it's cold. And wet. It's easy to forget that snow is actually freezing water._


	3. Chapter 3

"Up we go," announced Virgil as The Mole began to tilt. Pushing through rocky obstructions with ease, they surfaced.

"Instruments aren't recording any air impurities, though it's very cold out there," John reported, inserting his earpiece and preparing to open the hatch.

Virgil nodded. "FAB. I'll finish final procedure and set The Mole on standby. You find Alan."

"FAB," replied John, pulling the first aid kit over his shoulder and exiting the craft. It wasn't particularly well lit in the basement. John flashed a torch, calling out. "Alan? Can you hear me?"

No reply.

John tried again. The basement wasn't exactly small. It pretty much covered the belly of the entire building. No doubt Alan would have fallen through the weakest point of the floor, so the centre of the building would be a good place to start. At least everything was relatively tidy down here. Flashing his torch, John noticed something glinting ahead. Something metal.

"Alan!" he called, moving faster. Was that...yes, it was! It was a stack machine. If the oddity of its presence in the basement didn't strike him, the hole in the roof above it did. "Alan?"

He circled the machine carefully, before hearing a hoarse voice cry. "John!"

"Alan!"

John's light found his little brother. A quick examination of the situation prompted him to shout. "Virgil! Bring the cutting gear!"

After hearing Virgil's affirmative response, John pulled out a few small lamps from his pack, setting them around the space to provide enough light to properly look at Alan. His brother looked bad. Pinned under the machine, he was pale and shivering. John took Alan's cheek in his hand. "Hey, Alan, you with me?" he asked.

Alan blinked a few times before whispering. "Hey, John."

John gave him a warm smile. "I know you wanted my help on some physics work, but you didn't have to go this far."

Alan's smile turned into a grimace. "Don't m...m...make me laugh," he groaned.

"Easy," John soothed. "I'm going to take a look at you. Just stay still."

"Is that supposed to b...b...be a joke?" Alan panted.

John smiled grimly. "Did you hit your head? How many fingers? He asked, holding up a hand.

"Three," Alan correctly answered. "I don't think I hit my head."

John nodded, satisfied for the moment, and proceeded with his examination. Alan's arm was pinned but it didn't appear broken. He unzipped his brother's jacket and lifted his shirt as best he could to see Alan's chest mottled with bruises. John gently ran his hands along the area, eliciting a gasp from Alan. "Sorry," he murmured. "How bad does that hurt?"

"I'm too c...c...cold to know for sure," Alan stammered. "It hurts when you touch it."

John nodded, moving to gently prod Alan's abdomen, before zipping the jacket back up and covering Alan's torso with a thermal blanket from the first aid bag. "Anything hurt further down?" he questioned.

Alan let out a gasp before John could touch him. "Don't!" he panicked. "Don't touch my knee!"

"This one?" indicated John.

Alan nodded.

Just then Virgil appeared, carrying a cutter and a few more lamps. "How is he?" he asked, his eyes scanning over his brother.

John began sorting through the first aid bag. "No sign of head trauma. Definitely some broken ribs. His arm is trapped but it isn't broken. No distension in the abdomen. He's complaining of pain in his knee, but I haven't gotten that far yet."

Finally he found the scissors he'd been looking for. "Alan, I'm going to have to cut away your track pants a little to see what's happened, okay?"

"No! Don't! Don't m...move it!" Alan gasped, trying to sit up.

Virgil put his hand on Alan's shoulders to keep him down. "Alan, stay still and let John take a look, okay?" he gently instructed with an air of professionalism, tucking another blanket under Alan's head.

"I'm going to be as gentle as I can Alan, I promise," John assured, starting to cut Alan's trouser leg open. He stopped just above the knee, which was a lot worse than he anticipated. The whole joint was angrily bruised and swollen. It was also out of place.

"Alan," John calmly called for his brother's attention. When he got it, he continued. "Your knee is dislocated, I have to strap it up to immobilise it."

Alan shivered. "Okay."

"But before I can do that we need to pop the joint back into position," John said.

Alan grimaced and gritted his teeth, before nodding.

"Good man," John commended, giving Alan's leg a gentle squeeze in encouragement. He nodded to Virgil, who was already shuffling down to the site of the injury. Fixing a dislocated joint was difficult. The danger of trapping nerves and blood vessels meant that normal procedure would be to wait for professional medical assistance. But because Virgil was already well trained in the field of medicine and taking into consideration the time it may take to get Alan out, John was confident that it would be better for Alan if the injury was dealt with quickly.

Seeing the line of stress on his little brother's face, John moved up to kneel above Alan's head. "It's ok, Alan. I'm here," he comforted, gripping Alan's free hand.

Virgil made a few more cuts in Alan's jeans to gain a better view of the area. Watching him work, John stomach churned as he thought about the agony that awaited Alan. John wished he could give his brother some pain relief, but Alan was drowsy enough as it is. The good news was that the cold had kept most of the swelling down and would lessen the pain.

John shuffled closer to Alan, tucking the thermal blanket more firmly around him. "Are you ready?"

Alan grimaced in response. "Turn m...my watch off," he said.

John was confused. "What?"

"D...d...don't want G...Gordo moaning about the racket I'm m...m...making," Alan explained.

John turned the watch off, understanding Alan's desire to preserve his pride.

Virgil leaned into Alan's view, resting a reassuring hand on his brother's hip. "Okay, kiddo, here we go. I'll be as quick as I can, but I'm not going to lie to you, it'll be uncomfortable."

_Major understatement, __Virg._

Moving back down he firmly grasped Alan's leg and began to push. Alan let out a cry and stiffened, clenching John's hand. From the expression of exertion on Virgil's face, the amount of swelling, however little, was hindering the process. Alan was trying to make too much noise. John was both proud and grateful. Virgil couldn't afford to be distracted by brotherly concern.

_Come on, come on_, John silently encouraged as Alan let out a hoarse scream. He was rewarded with a resounding click and Alan's body sagging. Without hesitation, Virgil wrapped the knee up, eliminating any chance of movement. He moved up to join Alan again, placing another blanket around his legs.

"Hey, kiddo, you still with me?" John asked, stroking Alan's brow.

Alan was sweating and panting and there were tears in his eyes. His brother gasped. "It hurts to breathe," he said.

John smiled, wiping away the tears. "Then let's get you out of here, huh?"

"Need some help?" asked Virgil.

John shook his head. "You look for the other boy," he ordered.

Virgil murmured a few words of encouragement to Alan before disappearing.

John took a few minutes to console Alan, who was still shaking from the shock. "Dad will be proud of you," he murmured.

Alan let out a stiff grunt, another tear rolling down his pale cheek. John didn't hesitate in brushing it away. "It's ok. Let's get started, shall we?"

Before he could do anything else, John had to clear the space. With dumbbells making up most of the clutter and constantly having to check on Alan, it wasn't a task that could be quickly completed. Before long, he was interrupted.

"John, come in," Virgil's voice came through his earpiece.

"I hear you," he replied.

"They've found the boy. He's shaken up, but he managed to protect himself from the smoke by hiding in the boy's showers, of all places. He climbed out of a window and went around the back of the building," said Virgil.

However irritated John was about the time wasted searching for the boy who'd lead Alan into this mess, he was immensely relieved. "That's something, I guess" he said. "You'd better come back and give me a hand. We need to get Alan out and fast."

"FAB."

They'd have to cut him out. There was no way they could lift the machine, with all the weights it carried. Hopefully a slice through the top bar would give them enough room to pull him free.

He covered Alan with some protective sheeting, talking to his little brother whilst he did. "Hey Alan, how are you feeling?" he gently asked.

Alan's eyes were dim. "Tired," he replied.

John gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I know sprout. Listen, you have to stay with me," he told him.

Alan mumbled something that John didn't catch. "What was that?" he asked.

"'M sorry."

John frowned. "For what?" he laughed.

"Couldn't stop Josh...m...my fault," Alan rambled.

John grew concerned about his brother's lethargy. "Alan, stay with me," he commanded.

"John!"

"Virgil!"

The brunette scrambled over to his side.

"I need you to keep talking to Alan. I think he's going into shock," said John. "I'm going to start cutting him out."

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Fancy a picnic, sprout?" Virgil's voice cheerfully invaded Alan's dozing. The world dimmed as Virgil pulled a protective tarp over both of their heads as John began cutting. "John's getting started on cutting you out, but I must warn you, spaceman up there can be a little slow getting back into the game after being on the bench so long, so we might as well order a pizza."

A muffled, "I heard that!" floated down from above the tarp.

Alan gazed blearily up at his brother, who was snuggled down beside him on the cold, hard floor, with a sense of confusion. This level of contact was rather unusual for brothers, wasn't it? Dismissing the distracting thought, he huddled as best he could back under the warm cocoon of blankets, preparing to go to sleep for real this time.

Something thumped against his breastbone and wiggled frantically, pulling him out of it. "Come on, Alan stay with me. Just a few more minutes," said Virgil.

Alan gave a sob in frustration, panting, only to remember that he could barely raise his chest. He screwed up his eyes. _What am I doing?_ _Come on, don't let them down twice!_ he told himself. He blinked ferociously as Virgil's form blurred. He was shaking again, though the cold wasn't particularly affecting him anymore.

"John," he whimpered. He wanted it to stop. The noise from the cutter was scaring him. He couldn't see what was happening and all of this made him want to tell his brother to stop. But John couldn't hear him.

Virgil seemed to understand. He cupped Alan's cheek in one gloved hand and turned his head so that he would look at him. "It's all right. We're not going to let anything bad happen to you. I promise. Let John work."

The despair of not getting what he wanted encouraged the stubborn desire to sleep to return and although Alan knew sleep wasn't a good idea, he felt his eyelids grow heavy. He felt two fingers suddenly pressing against the side of his neck, and he weakly pulled his head away in an attempt to dislodge them. He'd had enough. He wanted to sleep! Was that too much to ask after everything that had happened?

Suddenly a loud clang made him jerk back into alertness. But for only a second. He heard Virgil talking urgently to him, but the words sound like they were being spoken underwater and so he was quite content to ignore them.

_If Virgil can't bother to talk properly then why __should I listen?_

He couldn't ignore the sensation of a weight being lifted off his chest and his underarms being gripped. He was being pulled backwards and it hurt. His ribs were being stretched and his back, being forced to lie twisted for hours on hard concrete, protested angrily at the movement. Alan let out an exclamation in an attempt to tell them it hurt, but he was ignored. _Maybe it's just better to sleep,_ he thought. _You don't feel anything when you're asleep._

TBTBTBTBTB

"John! We're losing him!" Virgil yelled as soon as they'd pulled Alan clear of the machine. He balled his hand into a fist and harshly rubbed Alan's breastbone again. He hadn't meant to cause his little brother pain, but Alan came awake with a yell. "Come on, Alan You're not _that_ bored are you?" he joked, loudly.

Behind him he could hear John hastening to pack the equipment out of the way. Concentrating on his brother, Virgil could see that his eyes were dim and fresh tear stains had appeared.

He held his brother's cheek in one hand. "Calm down, sprout. You're going to be okay. We're going to put you on a stretcher and then we'll be out of here faster than Scott running away from a fake mouse, and even faster than Gordon running away from Scott!"

To his relief, the corners of Alan's mouth raised slightly at the jibe on Scott's infamous fear of mice and Gordon's ever-present desire to exploit that fear. Gordon had landed head first in the pool many a time for those pranks. But no sooner had the smile appeared than it had gone.

_It's no use_, Virgil cursed. _I'm not getting through!_

But along his train of thought, he realised that he knew someone who could rise to the challenge. Removing his wristwatch, he opened the connection.

Gordon replied angrily. "Hey Virgil, what's the big idea cutting the connection with me? Did you have a problem?"

"Gordon," Virgil addressed his brother seriously. "I need your help. Alan's going into shock and he's struggling to hang on. I need you to talk to him. He's not responding to me and I need to help John get him out of here."

"Is he hurt? What's wrong with him?" Gordon quickly questioned.

"So far some broken ribs and a dislocated knee, but it's colder than the Atlantic down here and keeping him conscious isn't easy," Virgil explained.

"Put me on to him," was Gordon's response. "And get to work!"

"Alan, here," said Virgil, placing the watch next to Alan's head. "Let Gordon bore you for a while. I'm going to help John, okay?"

TBTBTBTBTBTB

"Hiya, kiddo!" Gordon happily chimed. Not being able to see Alan's face was irritating, but Gordon was confident he could get through to his brother. Nobody could ignore him for long and he knew it.

"Alan?" he called when he didn't get a reply. "Marco?" he called. "Oh come on Alan! You can't leave me hanging!"

"Polo," came a weak response.

Gordon grinned. Alan's voice sounded soggier than a wet blanket, but it was progress. "Hey, Al, what have you done to yourself this time?"

"Wasn't me," was Alan's reply.

Gordon laughed. "No need to deny it, Alan. I salute you for being able to get John off his arse quicker than Halley's Comet. The thought of him taking up residence in my pool is enough to make anybody want to fall through two stories of a building!"

"S'your turn next time then," Alan said, his voice growing steadily stronger.

"Oh yeah? What do I get to look forward to?" Gordon grinned with satisfaction.

Alan sighed into the comm. "Busted ribs, Virgil relocating your knee...back is killing me..."

Gordon frowned at that, his senses become alert. "What's wrong with your back, Alan?"

"Dunno, but it hurts," Alan replied.

"Do the guys know this?" Gordon asked.

His question was met with a yell of pain through the line. "Alan?" he called.

Alan's heavy breathing filtered through. After a little while, he replied. "Oh, trust me, they know. Put on a stupid backboard and collar."

As worried as Gordon was about these new claims of back pain, he laughed. "Sucks to be you, sprout."

"I'm not the one stuck in an orbiting tin can eating ration bars," Alan shot back.

Gordon hissed. "Ouch! Don't John hear you say that about his 'Bird."

There was some faint commotion coming from the other end of the line. Alan explained. "Too late. I am so busted."

Gordon chuckled.

TBTBTBTBTBTB

Gordon's banter over the comm was helping, but the increase in movement being forced upon him was becoming too much of a distraction. To be able to breathe fully again was a blessing, but his ribs protested with every breath. Strapped onto a backboard and stretcher, his head and neck immobilised, he had to say this was the most uncomfortable he'd ever been. He was trapped again. He was about to ask Gordon to come down there and sit by him, before he realised the absurdity of that request.

Instead he asked. "Gordon, what was it like...when you were stuck under the hydrofoil, and in hospital?"

The line was silent for a moment. Alan knew of Gordon's reluctance to talk about such things. He'd wanted to move on from the experience. But Alan was still drowsy and knew that sleep would take him unless he listened to a story he wanted to hear.

"Well, I wasn't awake directly after the accident, you know that," Gordon replied, his voice softening. "In hospital, waking up attached to all that equipment, I felt like I was suffocating."

_Yeah, I know that feeling_, though Alan, scrunching up his face.

"We're ready to move, Alan," John smiled above him. "Ready?"

_Hell yeah._

He stiffened at the jolt of the stretcher being lifted.

"Why are you asking me this?" Gordon questioned, sounding curious.

Alan didn't really want to answer. "Umm...I don't know..." he mumbled, closing his eyes sleepily.

He was forced to open them again by Virgil, who'd noticed them closing, and by Gordon, who impatiently snapped at the same time. "Alan!"

Alan jumped and opened his eyes again, bristling. "I don't know!" he said a little louder, closing his eyes again.

"Alan?"

"Alan!"

When he opened them again, he was in Thunderbird 2's medbay with Scott, John and Virgil standing over him. Virgil was holding an oxygen mask to his face.

"Gordon?" Alan mumbled, blinking sluggishly. _When did I_ _fall asleep?_

John gripped his shoulder. "Hey, Alan. Stay with us, don't go back to sleep."

_Whoops._ "M'sorry," he tried to say, however muffled.

Scott, who was covered in soot and grime, flashed him a smile. "You trying to make me grow grey hairs ahead of schedule, sprout?" he asked, putting a cool hand on Alan's forehead.

"Gordon?" Alan tried again.

"Gordon's taking care of final procedure," John told him.

"Yeah, and giving Dad a blow by blow in an attempt to stop him having an aneurism," Virgil piped up.

"Meanwhile, we'd better get you moving. Dad wants you to get to a hospital as soon as possible," said Scott. "Josh was fine, amazingly."

_Good_, Alan thought.

Virgil nodded musingly. "Okay, let's get moving. I'll start pre-flight checks. John, do you want to give me a hand?"

John looked up. "Sure."

_No!_ Alan silently cried, one hand lashing out to grab John's arm. He groaned as waves of agony pulsed through his tense muscles. Breathing became difficult, like the stack machine was still pressing down on his chest. He couldn't talk to make them understand that he didn't want to be alone.

Virgil put a hand on his other arm. "Alan?"

John interrupted. "It's okay. I've got him. Get her in the air."

Virgil left. Alan realised that Scott had disappeared too, presumably back to Thunderbird One. He and John were alone, with only his own breathing penetrating the silence. His brother leaned closer towards him so that his face was centimetres away from his own.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Alan trusted the softness of John's voice and the hand that had taken hold of his, but he couldn't answer. John wouldn't understand. He couldn't. He hasn't been there.

_I finally know now. How it feels to be trapped, alone and scared for your life, all the w__hile never knowing if someone is coming to save you. After a few hours, you succumb to a black hole within your own mind, filled with fear, anger and self pity. At first you are scared for yourself. At first shock hits you and you begin to physically react. You can only think about the pain and the world spinning. Then the fear traps you inside your own head. Fear of dying, fear of never seeing the ones you love and fear of never being missed until it is too late. Then anger; that a person's life could be so meaningless and so easily overlooked. The frustration at the idiots who had let the accident happen is enough to make you want to fight a little longer. But then the despair sets in and you no longer care. It seems easier to just die. You realise that the only truth you have is the fact that you are alone, and that nobody could ever understand what you endured or what you felt. The isolation is enough to drive you insane. _

Alan gripped his brother's hand and closed his eyes. "I'm fine."

**Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed this story and gave me feedback!**

**Look out for the next installment: "Rescuer" within the next few weeks.**

**Boann**


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